


The Seven Deadly Sins

by BoinkyBonks



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Anger, F/M, Gluttony, Lust, Martyr Matthew, Matthew is super in love with Claire, Mentions of Sex, NSFW, Pride, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Smutish, envy - Freeform, greed - Freeform, not detailed smut, sacreligious, sloth - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 19:34:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11743716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoinkyBonks/pseuds/BoinkyBonks
Summary: Matthew always thought it ironic that Claire’s last name was Temple.Specifically, he thought it poetic.Her body was what the holy dots of King James detailed. Her skin, like the most extravagant silk, bought at a price. Her mouth, without a drop of a word, showed him the true beauty and power of tongues.Matt's feelings on the sins he commits with Claire.





	The Seven Deadly Sins

Matthew always thought it ironic that Claire’s last name was Temple. Specifically, he thought it poetic. Her body was what the holy dots of King James detailed. Her skin, like the most extravagant silk, bought at a price. Her mouth, without a drop of a word, showed him the true beauty and power of tongues. 

His scripture would tell him it was false. That once his hands grazed her unearthed temple without a biblical bond any movement either of them relished in would be that of deadly sin. Though, “Saint Matthew” felt nothing of such. The gentle dragging of his sinful hands felt nothing remotely related to evil when it was Claire he was discovering. Claire shed a whole new light on the trinity. 

Her lips tasted of church; the overwhelming feeling of holiness leaked onto his own, gasps for air necessary to keep him grounded on earth. Her hips—her hips felt like god. Strong, a life line. His gentle nips down her body was nothing more than him worshiping as instructed. What he felt was right. Gluttony was wrong, the scriptures told him so, but taking her, all of her for himself didn’t feel deadly.

Matthew let everything in his head disappear except for Claire. He attempted to memorize every aspect of her body using every sense he could. He first let his mouth taste every inch of her. First her mouth, letting her tongue tell him all of her secrets, expelling all of her wrong doings like in a confession. Then down her throat and chest, taking her burden onto himself.

His hands joined his journey, memorizing her sides as he kissed and licked down her abdomen, her harsh stomach movements hushed with his expelling of her hunger, each movement of his filling her with what she craved. He knew what she needed. What they needed. Their mutual understanding of what they were doing; what they had to have. Unclothed like in the beginning, neither could part. As much as they would separate during the day, in their lives, they would always find themselves back to this place. Back to having to have each other hot and needy. 

His mouth and hands moved down her body. He was reading her and tasting her like she was his recipe. So one of a kind, so new. Her begging only more feverish the lower he got. He moved past what both of their heads were anticipating; his journey taking him down her legs. What carried her so strongly throughout the day. This, what they were doing now, this wasn’t strength. He moved back up, his mouth ghosting over her dripping heat until she begged for him. Until he begged himself to tend to her.

“Please,” Claire finally pleaded softly, so pure. 

That sound, that call was something that sounded like a prayer. It wasn’t wrong, or bad, it was holy to his ears. It was perfect. Nothing he had or would experience outside of his personal worship. Lust was wrong, his scriptures told him so, but wanting Claire and her wanting him so desperately, didn’t feel deadly. 

The feeling of a Sunday worship was what it was like having Claire. He couldn’t explain it any other way. How her breath hitched, and her voice rang, Matthew couldn’t help but feel a certain way. Her treasured and sacred existence being so completely satisfied by him was something that he couldn’t help but feel accomplished by. Her elegance exploited to its full extent at his own hands. 

At that moment, he felt like a preacher. Few words, few encouragements, but extreme results. His calls for her causing her to whimper His name. Her voice Her hymns crying out like a choir was something he deserved to be proud of. 

“Matthew, oh god!” She would sing loud enough for the neighbors to hear. 

The sounds of Claire calling for him only ignited the feeling inside him even more. Her gasps and praises making him work harder to make sure he’d be able to hear that angelic sound again and again. She deserved to be pleased, she deserved a moment of bliss. And he, well he deserved the credit for doing so. He deserved his name to be shouted from her mouth. 

“So good for me, Claire, so sweet.” He’d return, getting another whimper from the back of her throat. 

His personal choir. Her voice echoing in his head. He deserved it, and he knew that. His work, and his memorization of what she needed. His kindness to do such a thing, to focus completely on her. The fact that with only the instruments god had given him, he could make such beautiful music, he could make such a beautiful dance. He was allowed to be proud. Pride was wrong, his scriptures told him so, but being the one deserving of her cries, didn’t feel deadly. 

More often than not, Matthew forgot that Claire wasn’t his. He forgot that the taking on of so many other’s sins led her to flee. He forgot that he shouldn’t be beckoning her back to him whenever he could. He forgot because he didn’t want to remember. With each slash of her temple with his lips or teeth, he reminded himself, Claire, and anyone else who might want to experience the gifts of Him, Claire was his. That no matter how much better he knew she needed, he was far too greedy to let her go. 

Matthew smiled to himself as he leaned in the archway of his bathroom, his head tilted slightly against the frame. Her back was to him, and the fire in his eyes made it difficult to take in her smile, but he could sense that it was there. She hummed peacefully as she continually tested the temperature of their filling bath water. Her toes dripping quiet drops into the basin once they were removed, only to be returned to the cycle. 

Moments like these they were silent, respectful. It felt nice, it felt right. Moments like these Matthew forgot that he was Daredevil. He forgot that he was blind and that Claire would soon be leaving him again because their unacknowledged love wasn’t enough to keep her there to watch Matthew make a martyr of himself. He forgot that she deserved better. Moments like those Matthew was selfish. To him, Claire was his and only his. His covetousness was something he forgot. It was—

“All ready, bubbles and all.”  
“Yeah, I can smell that. Nothing better than the artificial smell of strawberries in the morning.”

Tasting every inch of her water glazed flesh became his Hail Mary’s. His apologies for his wrongs. He could tell he successfully removed the sacred coating of her walls with the scrape of her nails on his back. Greed was wrong, his scriptures told him so, but having her so undone, so vulnerable for himself didn’t feel deadly. 

Keeping the Sabbath was something that was easy for Matthew when Claire was around. After a week, or hours prior of working, not doing anything was something they were both skilled at. No work, no cleaning, just lying there as if the world would stop turning for them. How Claire’s breath would slow when she would sleep, and how her yawn would ease him when she would wake without even thinking to move. 

“We haven’t even eaten all day, Matt,” Claire attempted to push Matthew’s body that was draped over her off.  
“I’m not hungry,” He told her, and quite frankly, neither was she.  
“We can’t lay here all day.”  
“Who says?” 

Laziness is what she called it. He called it rest. It would have been much easier to do it all the time if she was there with him. Not moving once and enjoying the comfort of his own bed, a commodity he rarely used when she was away. Sloth was wrong, his scriptures told him so, but doing nothing with Claire felt better than doing anything else without her. 

If it wasn’t for the pounding of his own heart in his ears he would swear that he could hear the humming of the angels. If it wasn’t for the shaking of his own hands bumping against her motel bed he would swear those very creatures were elevating him into the skies. If it wasn’t for Claire’s inflating lungs he would swear she was the exact beings that he was asking to be surrounded by, and her human flesh often wasn’t enough proof that she wasn’t.

As Matthew carefully uncovered her chest, he felt his blood rush in a way that he didn’t like. Tasting a mark that wasn’t his didn’t feel like heaven. It didn’t feel wrong to feel this way. Claire was a gift, and he wasn’t surprised that she had been seen by others, but it didn’t make it any easier. Her collarbone something, he considered his own, now stained with the name of someone else. He froze at the feeling of the swollen skin on his tongue, at the taste of an unwarranted jealousy. 

“What’s wrong?” Claire inquired, her breath not as heavy as it ought to be.  
Matthew waited a moment before speaking, “Nothing, Claire, I… I should go.” 

Claire’s confused calls after him as he left the room was an awakening. Her crying out in a way he hadn’t intended returning him from the clouds. A reminder that it was his sin that pushed her into the arms of others. It was the devil in him. Envy was wrong, his scriptures told him so, but being so jealous of someone who was blessed with Claire’s presence didn’t feel deadly. 

Matthew wasn’t graced with Claire’s singing, praying, want, laziness, hunger, or deception. He was graced with her silence. Missed calls, unreturned texts, and unanswered prayers. She was finally doing what she deserved. She was finally moving on. It was Foggy who witnessed her at a bar with someone else, someone she looked happy with. Matthew wished he was half as holy as she would, that way he could be happy for her. 

“Hey Claire, it’s Matt, call me back.”  
“Hey Claire, please, what I did last time wasn’t fair but that doesn’t mean you should ignore me.”  
“Oh. Okay, so you can’t talk because you’re with someone else.”  
“It’s fine. I get it. Just. You know, don’t call me back.” 

He wished that he would be given a sign, a warning. He wished that he hadn’t ever fallen into Claire Temple friend’s dumpster. He wished that he didn’t have powers or that he had to be the one to take down the hand. He wished for a lot of things. The pit in his stomach, the fire in him, the anger all because of one woman. Deep down he knew it was for the best, but that didn’t take the feeling away. Anger was wrong, his scriptures told him so, but the feeling of losing Claire because of choices made for him didn’t feel deadly. 

Claire was angelic. She was holy and she was perfect. She was the one thing that he wished after all of his good doings, and all of his requited sins he could have. Claire deserved Eden and all the beasts, she deserved heaven. Gluttony, lust, pride, greed, sloth, envy, and anger were all wrong, his scriptures told him so, but none of them felt deadly. 

Loving Claire Temple was right, his scriptures told him so, but loving her enough to let her go did feel deadly.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this! Please leave me a comment if you did. I have read most of the Clairedevil fics and decided that I needed to help add some more. Thank you for reading <3.


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